The Nugget's Not Worth It
by Jakyoku the Wicked
Summary: The nugget at the end of Nugget Bridge seems like a wonderful prize, but what if losing really forced you into Team Rocket? Well, it did for someone. T for language and future violence.


Looking back, I would have been better off going home after Oak gave me my first pokemon, my charmander Drake. I remember how hard I trained, how hard I had to work to beat that first gym with only a charmander and a butterfree. How many embers did Drake have to fire, and how many antidotes did I need just to be assured he was safe? How many potions did I splurge on before facing Brock for the third time? After I was so afraid of losing again. After Green had beaten me so easily. Let me be frank: I had been nervous. I had no luck in searching for a Mankey, and no other pokemon could help me. Just Drake, and he didn't have the stamina to be bludgeoned by enormous stones. Neither did Fae.

But I won.

I'd been so nervous I wouldn't, but the glowing Drake alerted me to my victory.

And oh, how Mount Moon had been _Hell_. How the zubats continually confounded my pokemon, how Fae had to lead in a cave full of geodudes and Rocket members. Flamboyant men, in my opinion. And the trainers, the other trainers, they had looked so terrified. Like they were scared of the Rockets – it wasn't them I was scared of, just the combination of them, and the hostile environment.

I stumbled out of that cave with Fae in my arms, with Drake lagging along behind me, claws bared defensively. But that was when we saw a small, golden-brown tail sticking from the boundaries of the grass. I stepped towards it cautiously, curiosity getting the best of me. And before I knew what was happening, the owner of the tail popped out and tackled me – but no, it wasn't attacking. It took the hat straight off of my head, knocking me over as it did.

It was Drake who took offense, slamming the smaller pokemon to the ground and holding a claw threateningly to his neck. It was I who threw the pokeball and rushed my tired pokemon to the Cerulean pokemon center.

And then we trained.

It was a long time before Drake grew stronger, Fae grew faster, and Slam grew a combination of the two. He was a fast learner, and I loved him instantly. He didn't just obey; he added his own spin on things. A simple scratch became a slam with the back of his claws, hence his name. He was strong, and soon he evolved.

And that was when Green told me about the Nugget Bridge.

Sure, the trainers were easy after all of the training we did. Fae swept through with confusion until a critical hit on the part of a Ratatta knocked her out, at which point Drake took over. He wasted no time in torching the bridge with wild blasts of ember, but at the final trainer, the Mankey was just a tad too strong, aiming for a weak spot and scoring himself a critical hit. Slam threw him off the bridge.

Then came the man at the end of the bridge. I decided to screw a trip to the pokemon center, lest I be forced to endure the trial a second time. So slightly cocky I decided it wasn't worth a second trip. I didn't want to be accused of cheating. And besides. I had been wondering what great prize was at the end of the bridge.

And it was indeed a great prize. A minute supply of gold: a nugget. Enough to pay for all the potions I'd bought back in Pewter.

But of course, there was a catch. "Say, have you ever thought about joining team Rocket?"

I instantly hurled Slam's pokeball, releasing the Sandslash who raised his claws so defensively. The Rocket nodded understandingly, this reaction was expected. "I'm telling you to join."

I gritted my teeth, and Slam snarled menacingly. I thought about the situation. No potions. No berries. Nothing to do if I couldn't win, so Slam would have to overpower and sweep through whatever pokemon this guy had.

"Ok, you need convincing," he decided, grinning to himself. "Zubat!"

Supersonic. The first move was a loud, high-pitched wail that left Slam dizzy and confused. I held my breath, hoping that he understood the noise that came from the pokedex's speaker. **"Slash."**

But instead of slamming the zubat down with his claws, Slam swung with his claws and hurled himself over the bridge. I gasped, dropping the pokedex and jumping for him. I didn't know if a Sandslash could swim, but by the flailing claws and strangled cries, I assumed they could not and hurled myself at the water. But I was caught by the arm and pulled back onto the bridge. But something weighed me down, and the man fell when this occurred. I looked to my leg, numbly aware of the blood gushing from a wound. It wasn't that that concerned me, merely the cause of the abrasion: Slam's claws. The pokemon was exhausted and soaked, shaking with either rage, pain, or exhaustion. Or all three.

I reached for his pokeball, still at my belt, and I aimed it at the armored mouse as my vision began to fade. But as soon as the pokemon was recalled, the ball was snatched from my grasp.

I fainted from shock.


End file.
